


i long for you (just a touch)

by jenhyung



Series: heartbreak hotel [5]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Author Had Too Much Redbull, Fluff, M/M, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23300503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenhyung/pseuds/jenhyung
Summary: Taeyong caves.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong
Series: heartbreak hotel [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1083825
Comments: 23
Kudos: 211





	i long for you (just a touch)

**Author's Note:**

> author rushed this in one hour . please spare me.

There is nothing.

Taeyong hears nothing.

He knows that Yuta is holding onto his shoulders and Youngho is trying his best to stand in the way, but it doesn’t matter because Taeyong’s already seen him. It doesn’t matter that the music’s too loud and the lights are too dim because Taeyong’s already spotted Kim Doyoung and there isn’t anything in the world that could have him forget it.

“ _Listen_ to me,” Yuta says sternly, squeezing Taeyong’s shoulders hard. If they were quiet, they would probably hear the sound of his bones disintegrating under Yuta’s sheer strength, “Lee Taeyong, look at me right now.”

Taeyong blinks. He hadn’t known he was looking away.

“We are leaving,” Yuta announces. He looks at Youngho and they exchange some sort of look Taeyong doesn’t know how to decipher, “We’re leaving _now_.”

Taeyong stops Yuta from calling the bartender, trying his best to keep his voice leveled, “I’m fine.” Yuta ignores him, so he tugs harder on Yuta’s sleeve and stands a little straighter, “I am _fine._ We don’t have to leave, I’m not going to do anything.”

“I don’t think it’s you we’re worried about,” Youngho chimes in. He’s still standing by Taeyong’s side, blocking his view of where Doyoung is seated with his friends in one of the far booths, “But he’s right, Yuta, if he wants to stay then we can stay.”

Taeyong nods, “We can.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuta apologizes, unapologetically. He glares at his two supposed best friends, “Am I the only one here that remembers the harrowing last three weeks of Lee Taeyong’s life?”

Taeyong swallows thickly, recalling how most of those three weeks were spent on Youngho and Taeil’s couch, burrowing through pints of ice cream and boxes of chocolates. He shakes the memory from his mind, “It’s fine. Nothing’s going to happen tonight, okay, we’ll celebrate and then–”

“Lee Taeyong, I have known you for fifteen years, do _not_ lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” Taeyong sighs. He picks up his drink and makes no intention of ever leaving, “I’m not going to do anything and he isn’t either. We don’t have to leave.”

“I can’t believe–”

“Why don’t we,” Youngho interjects smoothly, “finish up this round and head on to another place after?”

Taeyong nods, “Let’s do that.”

“I hate it when you guys do this,” Yuta scowls. He takes a big gulp from his gin and tonic, “Doubling up and making it look like I’m the bad guy when not a week ago, you–” he points an accusatory finger at Taeyong, “–were practically linked to a two-seater ANGERSBY from IKEA and you–” the finger is redirected to Youngho, “–couldn’t wait to give Kim Doyoung a piece of your mind!”

Neither Taeyong nor Youngho have an argument towards that, and neither are they given a chance to come up with one because Yuta is stalking off in search of a bathroom, citing that his best friends absolutely _sicken_ him.

Taeyong winces inwardly, regretting taking up Yuta’s offer on going out for what is definitely the first time in twenty-one days.

“You know, he just cares about you,” Youngho says, moving to take Yuta’s empty seat. He swirls his drink around, ice cubes clinking, “Tough love, as my mom would call it.”

“I know he does.” Taeyong picks at the cardboard coaster under his drink, refuses every single nerve in his body screaming at him to look at Doyoung, “It’s just–he isn’t a bad guy.”

“Who isn’t?”

The name is fire on Taeyong’s tongue, “Doyoung.”

“We know that,” Youngho says. He takes a sip from his drink, fiddles with the strayed frays of his ripped jeans, “But we also know that he hurt you, Yong. He’s not a bad guy, but he did hurt you.”

“But I–” Taeyong doesn’t want to talk about it again, and in a bar of all places, but he can’t stop himself, “I was the one who ended things.”

“Because he didn’t love you.”

 _He did_ , Taeyong wants to say. _He does. He loves me._

“You said he didn’t,” Youngho says, reading Taeyong’s thoughts easily. He plucks one of the frays free, “You were convinced he didn’t and when you brought it up, he wouldn’t talk about it. There was nothing else you could do.”

 _I could have pushed him to talk to me_ , Taeyong argued. _I could have waited until he could be vulnerable with me, I could have told him it was okay, I could have–_

“If he didn’t want to talk about it,” Youngho stares right at Taeyong, forces him to nod along, “there was nothing you could’ve done.”

“Yeah,” Taeyong murmurs, “Yeah, I know.”

It’d taken weeks for him to accept it–that their relationship just didn’t mean enough to have Doyoung fight for it. That their years of complete honesty and dependency on one another as best friends meant nothing to Doyoung the moment they took their first step into dating. That sparing a shred of vulnerability was too much of a request, that Doyoung felt like he couldn’t–that he didn’t want to be the same around Taeyong anymore.

And that broke Taeyong’s heart.

It broke him to see Doyoung find solace in someone else, it broke him to be second to know of whatever troubles were in Doyoung’s head, it broke him to know that Doyoung was texting someone else while sleeping in their bed.

It broke him and he didn’t want to do it anymore.

“Stay here a minute, okay?” Youngho downs his drink, “I’m going to check on Yuta.”

Taeyong nods, tries not to let his gloom creep through.

Youngho thanks the bartender with a nod and leaves, off towards the vague direction Yuta’d headed for. In his absence Taeyong turns to sit with his back towards the rest of the establishment, not trusting his own will to keep himself from locking eyes with Doyoung.

What he doesn’t account for is the mirror behind the bar.

It’s immediate.

He finds Doyoung already staring at him through the mirror, his eyes darker than Taeyong’s ever seen. His cheeks are sallow and his clothes hang off him, and it’s without a doubt a result of their days apart. In that reflection, Taeyong notices too how thin he looks, painfully and obviously lacking of any care for his body.

Taeyong doesn’t blink, keeping his gaze trained on Doyoung. His entire body’s gone rigid, apart from his mind screaming as loud as it can possibly go for Doyoung to _please come over, please come over, please come over_. It repeats its chant over and over until Doyoung really _is_ getting out of his seat as if entranced by Taeyong’s hypnotic gaze.

They watch each other like hunter and prey–though it is unsure who is which–through the mirror; Doyoung crossing the bar and slipping between the throngs of partygoers without a hitch, completely focused on getting to Taeyong.

Taeyong doesn’t think.

When Doyoung is not three feet away, Taeyong turns in his seat, arms already reaching out for his past lover. His fingers tangle in the collar of Doyoung’s shirt, pulling Doyoung close until he’s bumping in Taeyong’s knees, stumbling forward like he hasn’t got a break in his step.

They say nothing, wordless in their first meeting since the day Doyoung packed up his things and left.

Taeyong twists his hold on Doyoung’s shirt, unsure himself if he wanted to push Doyoung away or pull him closer. Whichever it is, it’s become apparent that the space between them–though almost nonexistent–is still too far for Taeyong to handle. It has him standing from his seat to stand with his chest to Doyoung’s, heart beating so obnoxiously loud that it could very well imprint on Doyoung’s chest.

Doyoung’s eyes–those _eyes_ –rake every inch of Taeyong’s face, his breaths short and shallow as he did. It quickened with every passing second they stand so close to one another, like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs, like he couldn’t breathe at the sight of Taeyong again.

Taeyong doesn’t think, “My friends will be back soon.”

He loves Yuta and Youngho, he truly does. But Doyoung is his and this is his choice to make; Youngho has said that Doyoung isn’t a bad person–maybe they’re both just handling love wrongly. And if they are, Taeyong isn’t about to let Doyoung off that easily.

That ignites life in Doyoung, “Can we talk? Someplace else?”

Taeyong nods.

—

[11:23:04] **TY:** Sorry. I bailed.  
[11:23:07] **TY:** I'm safe with Doyoung.  
[11:23:11] **TY:** Don’t come over.  
[11:23:13] **TY:** Update tomorrow.

[11:25:21] **YT:** ????????????  
[11:25:24] **YT:** LEE TAEYONG  
[11:25:27] **YT:** oh my god  
[11:25:29] **YT:** do NOT test me  
[11:27:03] **YT:** ?????????????????????  
[11:28:42] **YT:** taeyong.  
[11:28:44] **YT:** TAEYONG.

[11:31:37] **YH** : Good luck.

—

The entire way home, their hands are connected.

Taeyong doesn’t know if he’d reached for Doyoung or if Doyoung’d reached for him but their hands stay entwined the entire way home. The palm of Doyoung’s hand against his own, Taeyong wished they had to walk a hundred miles more if it meant that this feeling could last forever.

In the elevator, Doyoung stands close.

Very close.

There’s no reason for it, they’re the only two people in the lift. But their hands are touching and so are their arms and hips and thighs. It would be so easy for Taeyong to just slight his head to the left, to bury his face in Doyoung’s shoulder like he loved to do.

There’re so many things he’d missed, so many things he’d loved.

He can’t let Doyoung get away. Not tonight.

Taeyong braves his heart and squeezes Doyoung’s hand. He keeps his eyes trained on the row of buttons before him.

It’s on the seventh floor that Doyoung squeezes his hand in return, an unspoken agreement for what’s to come. It sends a rush of anticipation coursing through Taeyong’s veins, laced with pure delight and joy, and some part anxiousness and worry.

There’s no time to think of it when the elevator doors slide open to the thirteenth floor. Doyoung leads them out and towards the right–just like they’ve done together hundreds of times before.

When the door is shut, Taeyong kisses him first.

He doesn’t want to think, doesn’t want to talk. Not now, not yet. He wants Doyoung and that’s all that matters for now, even if it’s one night, even if it’s less than that, Taeyong wants it.

Doyoung doesn’t resist.

He takes the cue easy and pushes Taeyong up against the closed door, holding the older boy down by the wrists. Their lips move fervently, the taste of Doyoung’s drink mixing with his, bitter and sweet all the same.

Taeyong closes his eyes, refuses to think. He kicks off his shoes and pushes against Doyoung’s restraints, whining when Doyoung refuses to let him budge.

Breaking their kiss, Taeyong whispers, “Bed.”

The haze in Doyoung’s eyes clear and the hold he has on Taeyong’s wrists loosen. He licks his pink-kissed lips, “I–I think we should talk.”

It’s that coolness he hears in Doyoung’s voice, one Taeyong knows all too well. Being best friends for years doesn’t mean nothing; he’s heard Doyoung use this tone whenever he had to set things straight, whenever he had to break bad news.

Taeyong couldn’t let him go now.

“No.” Taeyong slips his hands free to wind his arms around Doyoung’s neck, hooking a leg around Doyoung’s waist. It used to be a trick of his to get Doyoung to carry him anywhere, “Take me to bed.”

“Taeyong–”

“ _Please_ ,” Taeyong whispers. He doesn’t care that they shouldn’t be doing this, he doesn’t care that he shouldn’t be begging, “Please, baby–I don’t want you to go.”

Doyoung stumbles back when Taeyong pushes forward, taking the chance to leap up, leaving Doyoung no choice but the catch the older boy in his arms.

“Bed,” Taeyong instructs, leaving wet kisses on Doyoung’s neck. He licks a wet stripe up to Doyoung’s ear, nibbles on the lobe gently, “Please, Doyoung? One night, all I want is one more night with you, please give me just this?”

Doyoung spins quick, nearly throwing Taeyong off balance. He clutches on tight to Doyoung, surprised at the sudden movement but welcoming it anyway. He closes his eyes and continues to kiss at Doyoung’s neck, waiting for his back to hit the soft cushion of their mattress,

but he’s set on top of their dining table instead.

Doyoung immediately tries to untangle himself.

“What are you doing?” Taeyong whispers, like it isn’t obvious enough that Doyoung’s changed his mind, that Doyoung knows better than to sleep with the ex that broke them up. He clings tight to the front of Doyoung’s shirt, desperation picking him up like a whirlwind, “Wait, wait, wait, Doyoung–”

Doyoung shakes his head, “I don’t want this.”

Taeyong chokes on a breath, eyes brimming with tears. He still tries to keep Doyoung from leaving again, he still fights for Doyoung to stay, “I know.” Taeyong starts to sob, “I know you don’t want me, but please–just one night? Love me again for one night, Doyoung, please?”

“Taeyong–”

“I know it’s my fault,” Taeyong cries, too stricken to even think. “I know I broke us up, but I still love you, Doyoung–please, I–I–just love me for one more night and I’ll leave you alone, I–”

“I don’t want–I don’t want just one night.”

Taeyong shakes his head and the tears streak down his cheeks.

“I don’t want just one night with you,” Doyoung mumbles. He covers Taeyong’s hands where they’re starting to tremble, “I want more than that, I want every night with you.”

Taeyong exhales with a sob, totally at a loss. He waits for Doyoung to say more, but all the younger does is stare, brows furrowing together as if Taeyong’s got the answer written across his face in Sharpie.

Taeyong cries, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m saying I love you, Taeyong.” It’s enough to have Taeyong sniffling again, but Doyoung doesn’t stop, his cheeks reddening as he speaks, “When we fought, you said I never spoke to you, that I never told you anything–and it’s true. Somewhere along the way, I’d started to be wary.”

Taeyong hiccups, “Of what?”

“Of the things I’m bad at, the small things I get jealous over, the little quirks I have I know to annoy you,” Doyoung sighs. His eyes are glassy, bright under the kitchen lights, “I didn’t want to tell you all those things because I wanted–I wanted to be good for you.”

“What the _hell–_ ”

“I know, I know.” Doyoung lets their hands go to grab a Kleenex, patting at Taeyong’s drying tears, “You already know so many bad things about me, I didn’t want you to know more.” He cups Taeyong’s cheeks, stops the boy from speaking, “And I know you’re here for me, but it built up so much within me that I couldn’t bring myself to talk to you–I didn’t want to let you down, I didn’t want to disappoint you.

And when we fought I couldn’t help but think you _did_ deserve better. I couldn’t help hut think that letting you go was the best thing I could do for you.” Doyoung smiles sadly, cheeks lifting to let a tear escape, “So I left.”

Taeyong yanks a Kleenex roughly and grabs onto Doyoung’s face with both hands, wiping his tears away too. He says nothing but knows his glare must speak a thousand words because–how could Doyoung _think_ this? He’s seen Doyoung get thrown around in middle school for being class president for god’s sake.

“I’ve been meaning to call you,” Doyoung says, inching close, “but I was afraid to.”

Taeyong can’t fantom, “Afraid of what?”

“That you’d stopped loving me,” Doyoung mumbles. He bows his head low to rest his forehead on Taeyong’s shoulder, to hide his face away, “That I’d taken so long that you’d–stopped loving me.”

Again, Taeyong’s heart breaks.

He tosses the Kleenex across the kitchen and wraps his arms around Doyoung, hugging the boy close, making a promise to the heaven’s they’d never forget this day. Doyoung’s arms eventually make their way around Taeyong’s torso, and Taeyong feels the corner of his shirt dampen with Doyoung’s tears.

“I love you,” Taeyong says. Firmly, resolutely, “I love you. Even if you feel like you’re not enough, I’ll be here to remind you that you are. And when I feel like I’m not enough, remind me–that you love me too.”

Doyoung breathes heavily, chest moving in time with Taeyong’s.

“I love you,” Taeyong sighs. He closes his eyes, wishes he could take the last three weeks back, three weeks worth of precious time, “I love you”

“I love you too,” Doyoung mumbles.

Taeyong nuzzles Doyoung’s temple, “Tell me again.”

He pulls away. With rosy cheeks and a smile Taeyong would trade nothing for, Doyoung says, “I love you, Taeyong.”

And that, is everything.

**Author's Note:**

> [redbull induced caffeine overload] YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH 
> 
> come find me in [trash](https://twitter.com/jenhyungs)


End file.
